into the back pockets of her skin-tight jeans, the action up-tilting her perky breasts, and his pulse thrashed against his cuffs.
Then his heart turned over, roaring to life as he checked out her white T-shirt, embellished with a woman clad in a slinky black catsuit and the words ‘This Kitty Has Claws’ stroking across her perfect C’s.
How beautifully apt.
‘Lucky kitty,’ he drawled, stretching the word as if it had six syllables. ‘Can I stroke it?’
A shiver rustled over her sweet body and his smile warmed, became bona fide, as she slicked her lips with moisture. ‘If you need all ten fingers to drive I wouldn’t advise it.’
‘I love it when you get all mean and tough. It turns me on.’ It was that survivor air about her. Did strange things to him.
‘Forgive me if I don’t take that as a compliment. Seems to me that anything with the necessary appendage flicks your switch.’
‘You’d be amazed at how discerning my sexual palate is, Miss Scott.’
Very true, that. After a few disturbing front-page splashes in his misbegotten youth he’d vowed to take more care in his liaisons. Absolute honesty with women who read from the same manual. Short, sweet interludes. No emotions. No commitment. Ever.
The mere word relationship caused a grave distress to his respiratory rate.
Not only had he started to see himself as some kind of bad luck charm—a grim reaper for those he cared for—but he was also inherently selfish. Driving was his entire life. Women were simply the spice that flavoured it.
Existing in the moment wasn’t exactly conducive to family ties when he travelled endlessly, partied hard, and there was every possibility there would be no tomorrow.
She snorted. ‘Discerning? Yeah, right.’ And she brought those incredible grey eyes his way, arching one brow derisively. ‘Let’s take this conversation in a safer and more honest direction, shall we? Where’s your helmet and gloves?’
‘Not sure. Be a good little girl and go get them for me, would you?’ he drawled, his amusement now wholly legit.
She puckered those luscious lips at him and a layer of sweat dampened his nape.
‘Don’t push it, Finn. I promise you, you don’t want to get on the wrong side of me today.’
He dipped his head closer to her ear and relished the way her breathing hitched. ‘I would love to get on any side of you, Seraphina. Especially now I’ve tasted that delicious mouth of yours.’
Easing back, he licked his lips to taunt her with the memory. It certainly wasn’t to try and remember her unique flavour—that tart strawberry bite sparking his taste buds to life. Incredible.
‘In your dreams.’
‘Always,’ he said, knowing she wouldn’t believe him. Odd that it made him feel safe enough to drop his guard, tell her the unvarnished truth—which was a danger in itself.
With an elaborate sigh she stormed into the shadows of the garage, her voice trailing off to a murmur as she spoke to the mechanics and engineers. Yes, go—get as far away from me as you can.
From the corner of his eye he noticed a news crew focusing on him with the ferocity of an eagle spotting its prey and his chest grew tight. No chance.
Feigning ignorance, he ducked his head and strode back into the shade. Where he ran smack-bang into a helmet.
‘Here,’ Serena said, slapping a pair of gloves in his other hand.
A shaft of shock rendered him speechless. She used to bring Tom his helmet and gloves. She used to murmur something too. At one time Finn had tried to eavesdrop, but he’d quickly decided he was being ridiculous and didn’t care what she’d said.
Then she’d always run to meet her brother after the finish, whether he’d won or not. She’d run out and hug him warmly, affectionately, with admiration in her smile and trust in her heart.
Instead of the usual envy the memory evoked, he battled with another surge of guilt that she couldn’t run to Tom any longer. Then called himself fifty kinds of fool for toying with the idea that she could run to him if she needed to. As if.
‘Hey, are you with me?’ She clicked her fingers in front of his face. ‘You’re phasing out, there. Something I should be worried about?’
Out came his signature smile. ‘You worried about me, baby?’
‘No. I’m worried about the multimillion-pound car you’re likely to crash to lose the championship! Did you get some sleep?’
Strangely enough, the couple of hours he’d managed had been demon-free, with his new boss the star of the show. Which was typical of him—wanting something he could never have just to make the challenge more interesting. The win more gratifying. Because, let’s face it, while he fed off the rush of success, it never seemed to be enough. He was always restless. Always wanting something elusive, out of reach.
So, no, he did not trust himself around her. ‘I did catch a few hours, thank you. It’s amazing what the presence of a sexy spitfire can achieve.’
Her delicate jaw dropped as she grimaced. ‘You mean after I left you actually…?’
Finn shook his head in disbelief. She thought he was talking about someone else.
Why was it that she’d grown up surrounded by men and yet had no conception of her unique brand of sexuality? It was as if she lacked self-confidence. If so, he wished she’d start believing him. Wished he could show her what she did to him.
Too dangerous, Finn. Just get in the car, win the race, show her you’re a fixed man and get her back off to London out of harm’s way.
The pep talk didn’t work a jot. And, come on, she might fancy the pants off him but it wasn’t as if she would ever answer to this overwhelming burn of desire. One, she was an intelligent little thing and she had more sense. And, two, she hated his guts.
‘After you—sexy spitfire that you are—left, I slept. Alone.’
Her mouth a pensive moue, she simply stared at him.
Finn watched the soft shimmer of daylight dance through the shadows to cast the lustre of her skin with a golden radiance, enriching the heavy swathe of her hair until the strands glittered with the brilliance of rubies. A shudder pinballed off every vertebra in his spine.
‘Why do you do that?’ she asked, more than a little frustrated.
‘What?’ Shudder?
‘Say things you don’t mean.’
‘Who says I don’t mean them?’
She gave a little huff. ‘Past experience. You’ve always delighted in ensuring I know you see me as nothing more than a tomboy.’
‘Tomboys can’t be sexy?’ She was the sexiest woman he’d ever
